


Revelry On High

by Interrobang



Series: Revelry On High [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: M/M, Molly Is A God (As We All Know), Sex Toys, Top Caleb Widogast, Trans Caleb Widogast, magic sex toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:55:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29094606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Interrobang/pseuds/Interrobang
Summary: Caleb is unused to the gods of the country he travels through, who seem very much more personal and involved with their worshippers' lives. In a vineyard in an unfamiliar village rumored to be favored by the god of revelry, Caleb gets more than he bargained for from night of research.AKA God Of Revelry Mollymauk/Scholar Caleb. Molly is a Dionysus-like figure in this fic.
Relationships: Mollymauk Tealeaf/Caleb Widogast
Series: Revelry On High [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2187603
Comments: 12
Kudos: 140





	Revelry On High

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! This one was very, very fun to write. I might revisit it in the future for a little sequel. :) 
> 
> Note: though I did not label this dubcon because I don't think it fits those parameters, Caleb IS technically influenced by Molly's godly powers to loosen up and enjoy himself more fully than his usual shackles of shame and anxiety would allow. It's by no means substance abuse or anything similar inhibiting Caleb's reasoning-- he's just able to relax a bit.

.

Caleb had grown up in the frozen north, in a land of conifers and freezing cold winters and landlocked mountainous terrain. It was a land where the people were more subtle in their affections. The way they interacted with their land was through hard labor and careful settlement, displacing or altering the natural paths the land gave them to suit their needs.

Their gods reflected that. The pantheon Caleb had grown up with was distant and reserved, said to live in the stars themselves. They rarely came down to interact with mere mortals, and when they did it was often disastrous.

The magic Caleb grew up learning, therefore, was similarly structured. Magic was a study in itself, something with rules and regulations. It could be categorized and learned rote. It was not something to let carry you willy-nilly into wondrous but consequence-laden decisions.

But when he left the frozen north, he’d found the next continent over quite different.

The people of this new country had a completely different pantheon than the region he had grown up in. He was used to vengeful gods, a class of deities that stood above the people (quite literally) both in stature and hierarchy, and who only interfered with the lives of humans for the occasional bit of punishment.

The gods here were….strange. Pettier, more fanciful, more _mortal_ , and seemed deeply involved in the daily doings of their devotees. He wasn’t sure how to deal with that. He didn’t know how to _interpret_ it half the time, when the warm weather was attributed to a handful of gods all being in good spirits, or a good crop due to favoritism from one deity or another.

That was, in fact, exactly why Caleb was in this particular farming village in the first place. All the tales he’d been able to jot down spoke of strange happenings from this locale. Spirits in the trees; nymphs in the rivers.

Caleb, however, was here on a hunt for spell components. He’d been studying the local magics, and found that much of its power came from the land its components originated from. The wine of this place in particular had a peculiar reputation for being the favored beverage of one of the lesser gods. Upon Caleb’s careful testing, the glass he’d managed to procure was indeed especially potent, and not simply in alcohol content. Different than the icewines of his homeland, where the fruit was frozen in the early spring and the sugars made especially strong, this wine instead ripened under near-coastal sun in rich soil to make something dry and spicy that made Caleb’s magic sing a little louder when he sampled it.

He’d asked around town about it. They’d had only some idea of what he’d meant when he’d started talking magic— but when he switched phrasing and asked about the power of the gods, and how it would be expressed, he got some interesting answers.

“The vineyard out on the edges of the wood is favored by the gods,” a local tradeswoman told him slyly when he inquired further. “The god of revelry and libations, you know, he _prefers_ their vintages. They always come out especially heady; and their early season grapes are greatly favored for a lover’s stamina.”

“Oh,” Caleb said, feeling his cheeks pinken. “Indeed?”

The shopkeeper looked at him slyly. “Looking for assistance in that department? They have a lovely vintage decanting this summer, though it’s not as, er, _potent_ as their cool-weather crops.”

“Just doing some research,'' Caleb assured her, feeling his face darken even further. He was personally willing to chalk it up to pure scholarly excitement, but not all took his northerly complexion, with its easy betrayal of his emotions, at face value. “Might you point me in their direction?”

The woman had sent him off with a laugh and good directions and so he had grabbed his pack and fled towards the villa.

He now stalked the orchards. They were marvelously built, the rows upon rows of arched trellises holding grapes of abundant size, just about ripe and almost ready to harvest. Even with his middling agricultural ability Caleb could smell the sweetness of the fruit in the air, heady and perfume-like as the soft sea breezes blew in from not too many miles out.

As the day went on and he investigated the grapes, the soil, and even the shape of the trellises themselves to try to identify anything even faintly magical, he started to lose his place. The rows of trellises, which once seemed to be orderly and lined so the sun would hit them evenly throughout the day, started to come at stranger and stranger angles, turning into a labyrinth. At points he seemed to be climbing uphill, at others stumbling down, each turn ever tighter as Caleb turned corner after corner while the sun made its descent.

And then he realized it was night, and he was quite lost.

He wasn’t sure what to do about it, either. His natural abilities could always tell him where true North was, but as he tried to feel his magic out, he began to feel nauseous, like he was on a widely bucking ship. He could chalk it up to poor planetary alignment or something spookier, but no matter the reason it seemed he was stuck.

He stood a long minute fidgeting with his limited spell components on hand trying to think of what he could do before he realized he could hear a sound in the distance.

Not just _a_ sound; _sounds_. Great whoops of joy echoed through the vineyard, the faint pounding of a number of drums backing them. The tinkling of cymbals and bells, lutes and lyres and maybe even, yes, a lap dulcimer.

He brightened. If there was a party out here, surely one of the hosts would know how to get out of the maze. A scene emerged before Caleb as he trotted through the meandering paths towards the sound. And then he rounded a corner and was confronted with the scene unfolding before him:

A bonfire, towering into the sky, erupted before him in a rainbow of flames. Dancing around the fire were a group of at least two dozen or so individuals of a wide variety of shapes and sizes. Every one of them had a drink and in some cases an instrument in hand and were dancing wildly, laughing and leaping and twirling in circles.

Teetering above the crowd on a large stump and presumably presiding over it all was a purple tiefling of the most captivating disposition Caleb had ever seen.

“Our honored guest has arrived!” The tiefling pronounced as he caught sight of Caleb peeking out from around the edge of a trellis. He raised a great jeweled goblet up high to toast Caleb. A dribble of wine, dark as blood, splashed over his fist, dripping down his forearm. The tiefling chased after it with his tongue— his _forked_ tongue, Caleb noted with a flush, lapping after the stray droplets of wine with a fanged grin. “Come, my darling man, join us!”

The tiefling jumped off the log with a swirl of his many-patterned coat, his tail waving behind him as he stalked over to where Caleb was stark frozen at the edge of the clearing. He looked up at Caleb, his dark hair flowing in wavy whorls between a pair of curling, jewelry-studded horns. He was not broad nor heavily-muscled, but there was something about the man, perhaps the way the dizzyingly colorful fire refracted off his lavender skin like the iridescence of a fish’s scales, that radiated pure, simple power.

The tiefling radiated _confidence,_ the magnitude of it so overwhelming that when he offered Caleb the self-same goblet he’d lapped the stray droplets from, Caleb found himself reaching for it without thinking.

“There we go,” The tiefling purred, his tail flicking happily behind him. He looked Caleb up and down, staring expectantly and then frowning when Caleb didn’t try the contents of the cup. His eyes flashed red as a blood moon, and Caleb suddenly felt like he’d been more than seen. “And yet you do not drink. You’re not local, are you?”

“Not at all,” Caleb found himself admitting.

“Then you may not be familiar with our customs, but surely the rules of the game are the same everywhere: it wouldn’t do to turn away a stranger’s hospitality; you never know who or what is on the other end of it. Don’t want to anger the wrong deity, do you?”

“I suppose not,” Caleb said, and he did see the logic in that. Against his better judgement he found himself lifting the goblet to his lips. He took a draw; the wine inside was dark and rich, full bodied like eating a pomegranate and a bagful of sweet cherries all at once. It left his lips with a smacking dry sensation, searching for something richer. As if reading his mind, the tiefling offered him a handful of nuts, already cracked. He lifted a walnut up in offering, and Caleb found himself leaning forward to delicately eat it from his fingers, lips lingering over the tiefling’s fingertips.

“What is your name?” Caleb asked as he crunched on his snack. “It seems rude to take your hospitality and not even know who to thank.”

The tiefling grinned again. The fire glinted off his white, sharp teeth. “I have many names in many places, but here and now you may call me Mollymauk. Or Molly, if you want to get familiar.”

“And what brings _you_ here, Mollymauk?” Caleb asked conversationally. He was not typically prone to bouts of chattiness, but the situation, strange though it may have been, seemed to call for it. “To…” He looked around, squinting against the incandescence of the fire. “...the middle of a vineyard at night?” He took a sip. It _was_ good wine. This pull seemed to reveal more spice notes, the dryness at the end of it leaving him hungry again.

Obligingly, Mollymauk fed him another nut. His fingers were warm, the tips darker purple like the stains on the spout of Caleb’s hand-me-down wineskin. The nails were finely-filed, and Mollymauk dragged the tips of them ever so carefully down Caleb’s chin when he pulled away, tilting his jaw up a fraction.

“I’m from all over,” Mollymauk said after a stretch between them that was filled with raucous laughter and the rapid _thump-dada-boom_ of a drum from elsewhere in the clearing. “Most recently this place, but I’ve been known to put down roots wherever there’s good soil.”

Before Caleb could respond in any material way, however, Mollymauk grabbed Caleb’s free hand and swept him towards the dancing crowd, urging him to join them in the warm cast of the bonfire.

“Drink!” the tiefling urged him, his eyes shining bright as embers. “Enjoy yourself.” His teeth as he smiled were so, so sharp, glinting in the firelight. Caleb found himself wondering what it would be like to be on the receiving end of them, to have them at his throat— whether in threat or promise, it sent a shiver down his spine. “You’re in good company. You might even call it divine.”

The people in earshot laughed as if Molly had told a fantastic joke, smiling at each other and continuing their music. Caleb milled by the fire for many minutes, taking the occasional sup of wine. The music was cheerful and bright, with a quick beat that inspired dancing, and indeed the revelers took to it like it was as simple as walking for them. Caleb watched two women pull out long sheer scarves and begin to dance in a whirl, the colors of their silks swirling like flowers blooming and wilting all at once.

It was mesmerizing. Caleb sipped his wine and let himself relax a bit. He wondered briefly if he was intruding on a private event. They certainly all seemed well-prepared to spend the long night out in the field. The bonfire burned tall, and there seemed an ample supply of wood to keep it burning long into the night, though Caleb could not see a waiting stack anywhere nearby. The logs simply seemed to appear from around the corner of this or that shadow when needed.

In fact, the fire was _quite_ hot. Caleb shrugged off his coat and lay it over one log next to his pack, leaving him in his shirtsleeves and the loose trousers he’d taken to wearing in this more temperate land. But even that was not enough. Soon he found himself toeing off his boots and shedding his shirt as well, leaving him bare-chested around other people for the first time in many, many years. Certainly the first time voluntarily since he was a child. It was reassuring to note that most of the other partygoers had done the same, however. Each person gleamed with sweat as they danced wildly around the fire.

Gods, but he was hot. The clearing seemed sweltering, and the wall of heat was not helped by the internal pool of simmering golden sunshine that seemed to grow with every sip he took from the goblet Mollymauk had handed him.

He had a brief thought that despite his many pulls from it the cup had not emptied, nor seemed even close to it. But there were many people about, all brandishing pitchers and bottles and jars of things, and perhaps one of them had been topping him up when he wasn’t paying attention. It seemed like the kind of friendly gesture the people here tonight would do for him.

The weight of his studies and duties fell away as Caleb cautiously took up dancing with the other revelers. He danced with men and women and those that seemed to defy categorization, all whirling, laughing, with wine-stained tongues that wet smiling lips.

All his cares seemed to fall away until he, too, was laughing and leaping, stark naked like the rest of them, seemingly between one blink and the next. The heat was exhilarating as they danced about the fire, singing and roaring with laughter.

He felt light as a tuft of dandelion fluff on a summer wind, swinging from hand to hand, spinning until suddenly he was stilled by a gentle hand gripping his own, pulling him away from the danced-bare dirt ring around the flames. Mollymauk peered up at him gleefully, his eyes shining joyously as he took in Caleb’s bare body shining with sweat and energy. He twirled Caleb once, dipping him with a hand at his waist before pulling him up to grab him in a great hug, whirling him around in a way that made Caleb’s head spin in the best way.

“Mollymauk!” Caleb declared. “I do not know how I came here or _why_ , but this is amazing!”

“Isn’t it just?” Mollymauk purred against him. Caleb was entranced by the way the light danced over the tiefling’s skin. Now that he had shed his clothes like the rest of them Caleb could see that Mollymauk’s skin was intricately decorated. His tattoos were a kind he’d rarely seen before, the colors clear and brilliant, the details of his markings intricate. They must have been done by a master artist; who exactly _was_ this man, to have that kind of coin and influence?

The thought slipped away from him as Mollymauk leaned into him, drawing one sharp-nailed hand down Caleb’s waist to slip around his lower back and pull him close, pressing them chest to chest. Caleb gasped at the heat of him, nearly sharp enough to pale the bonfire. He could feel the length of Mollymauk’s body against him, all eager muscle and stark heat. His tail wrapped around Caleb’s ankle as if he wanted to eke out just that much more contact, the spaded tip of it flapping against his heel.

“Well, Mister Caleb?” Mollymauk asked, his finely shaped brow arching high. When had Caleb given his name? He decided it didn’t matter. “Care to dance to a different tune?”

“I, ah…” Despite his racing heart and high spirits, Caleb hesitated, a nervous laugh caught in his throat. He could feel Mollymauk’s interest at his hip, the hard line of him like a brand against his own thatch of auburn curls. Then the crowd cheered, a high line of clear delight at Mollymauk’s joining them in their debauchery, and Caleb was taken over by the spirit of the night. He laughed, leaning in to press his mouth to his partner’s. “As long as you can show me the steps.”

Mollymauk laughed in return, a huff of warmth breath as he ducked up to plant a kiss square on Caleb’s mouth. Caleb’s head spun with the heat of passion behind it, the forked tip of the tiefling’s tongue soft against his own with the faintest hint of fortified wine imparted. Mollymauk kissed like he wanted to devour Caleb, hands wandering over Caleb’s body like he was a new treasure to be explored. Caleb shivered as the sharp lines of his painted nails dragged down his back until Mollymauk grabbed his ass and squeezed, pulled Caleb even closer so he could grind their hips together.

Want ran down Caleb’s spine as warm as mulled cider, welcome as a blanket on a cold night. He was distantly aware of the other revellers cheering and breaking into their own groups, the passion of dancing now put into other efforts. Moans filled the clearing— and Caleb’s voice joined them, a sharp “Ah! Molly...” escaping his lips when Mollymauk’s fingers slipped between his cheeks to pet against the cleft of him.

Fuck, but he throbbed at the thought, the blood rushing to his groin near-painful. The clearing was sweltering despite the slight chill he’d been walking through before this. He pressed into Mollymauk’s chest, wrapping his own lanky arms around Molly’s torso to squeeze him back. It took all his willpower to shed the shame he’d felt for so long about his body, but damn if the wine and the dancing and Mollymauk’s sheer magnetism didn’t entice something animal out of him.

He felt like a cat on the hunt, his whole body alert and aching to pounce just as soon as he knew how to corner his quarry. He reached between them to take Molly in hand and inhaled sharply again; the tiefling’s cock was pierced as well, something Caleb had only heard of in passing. A bar ran just under the head of his cock, glinting gold when Caleb ducked his head down to get a better view. And he was already slick with precome, the glistening wet of it easing the slide of Caleb’s fist around him.

Molly moaned, taking his bottom lip between his teeth and making his pleasure known loudly, again to great encouragement from those around them. He tilted Caleb’s chin up again, kissing him more hungrily this time, biting and dragging at Caleb’s lip like he wanted to eat him alive, but only by the tiniest of bites at a time.

“I’m, er—” Caleb fumbled for the words, not sure how to say what he wanted to say. “I’m afraid I don’t usually, erm, enjoy receiving anything…” This was as far as he’d usually gotten with other men— they tended to expect certain things from someone of his make, and it was not something Caleb was terribly comfortable with.

“Oh, don’t you worry, darling,” Molly purred against his lips. “I’m flexible.” He pulled back, cock bobbing as he danced over to a collection of bags and belongings that Caleb hadn’t noticed before, presumably those of the other partiers. “I have a party favor for you, if you’d like. Don’t worry about thanking me too profusely; I’m sure I’ll get just as much out of it as you will.”

Caleb stared down at the object in front of him. It took him a moment to identify it, having barely seen things of this type so well crafted. The wood of the phallus Mollymauk brandished was a dark, well-polished wood, curved and shaped in such a way that its use was clear.

Molly traipsed back over to Caleb with the gift in his hand, one palm coming to rest on Caleb’s hip, the other dragging the smooth, burnished wood of the toy over the twitching muscles of Caleb’s scrawny abdomen. Molly slid it against him tantalizingly, rubbing the blunt edge of one end of it down and against Caleb’s folds, teasing his already-hard cock with it just forcefully enough that Caleb’s knees felt weak. He spread his legs ever so slightly, breath coming in short, sharp gasps—

And then a deep, body-shaking moan as he realized that he could feel the length in Molly’s hand as if it was his own, throbbing and hard and held tenderly by Mollymauk’s sure grip.

Molly grinned, all teeth and pure joy at Caleb’s reaction. “There we go. Said it was special, didn’t I?”

“Wh-where did you— get this?” Caleb gasped as Molly slid it against him again. With a little hitch and press Caleb felt it seat itself inside him, his own body holding it in place. He gripped Molly’s shoulders tightly as he leaned into the heat of him, forehead resting on the tiefling’s shoulder as Molly stroked him slow and leisurely.

“Found it in a field,” Molly said with a laugh. “Did you know the very oldest of a grapevine’s rootstock makes for interesting carving?”

“N-no, I d-did not,” Caleb stuttered, biting down on Mollymauk’s shoulder just so he didn’t yell out in pleasure again as the tiefling gave him a good rub before drawing away.

“Don’t you want to see what makes it so interesting?” Molly asked cheekily, sinking to his knees.

“I— yes, please, _please_ ,” Caleb found himself begging, legs wobbly. He swayed on his feet, unable to stop himself from giving the toy a tug. Again sensation throbbed phantomly, a sharp spike of pleasure in his hindbrain giving him the unfamiliar urge to thrust. And Molly’s lips looked so _soft_ from this angle, bitten-plump and willing. He sighed as Molly leaned in to suck on the tip of the toy, hollowing his cheeks as he slowly took it into his mouth. It felt just as good as, if not better, than the few times someone had done the same to Caleb’s actual flesh.

“Ah, nng, Molly—” Caleb moaned as Mollymauk sunk down on him. The tieflings’ claws dug into Caleb’s buttocks as he was tugged closer by the hips. It was a clear invitation to fuck his waiting mouth. And oh, but he was _hot_ around Caleb’s cock, wet and slick and shifting tightly around him as he was swallowed down. Caleb’s head spun drunkenly as he felt himself rise towards a crest he wasn’t sure how to deal with.

Then Molly swallowed around him, and the decision was made for him. Caleb felt himself convulse around the toy, his cunt throbbing around the hard wood at the same time he could have sworn his cock pulsed against Molly’s teasing tongue. He shivered, jerking as Molly flicked the forked tip of his tongue against the sensitive tip of him. The wood shone like it had been glazed, spit shining in the firelight.

All at once Caleb’s legs threatened to give out, and Molly laughed and helped him down to the ground. The dirt was soft and fresh but firm enough not to cling too muddily to Caleb’s skin, and it was a relief to finally find a hard surface to collapse against. It was easy to arch his back as the toy pressed against him as he moved, to shift this way and that. Yet the heat had not faded, the ecstasy of the night still singing through his veins.

“Not done?” Molly asked, though it was clear he knew the answer. “Good thing I’m not either.”

Caleb gasped again as Mollymauk climbed astride him, his tail whipping back and forth behind him. Caleb felt it settle to curl around his ankle again as Molly got comfortable. The tiefling ran his hands down Caleb’s chest, his waist, the jut of his skinny hips. Yet it was not judgemental, unless Molly was a _very happily_ biased judge, for the more Mollymauk touched him the more pleased he seemed with what he found. It was very flattering— gave even Caleb a puff of pride in his chest to be so admired.

“Oh, I _like_ this look on you,” Molly said, smug. “Much better than when you arrived. Wanton. Hungry. You are just _delicious,_ my dear.” He illustrated by dragging his nails down Caleb’s chest, scratching through his wiry body hair to elicit a shudder. “It’s not often I get to sample a creature like you,” Molly purred, stroking him again. Caleb whined, hips bucking unbidden into Molly’s grip. His hole throbbed again, an excited little pulse around the polished wood inside him.

“M-mollymauk…” Caleb gasped. “Please.” Please what, he didn’t know. All he knew was that whatever Mollymauk wanted, he was going to get.

Mollymauk lowered himself against Caleb, grinding enticingly. His own cock bobbed in the air as he did so, the shine of precome on it too tantalizing to ignore. Caleb reached for it, stroking Molly even as the tiefling bore down on the toy and seated himself.

 _“Sheisse,_ ” Caleb muttered, the searing heat of the clearing sucking into his lungs as he inhaled sharply. “You feel— so _good,_ oh—” Molly was tight around him, his insides clinging as the tiefling started to ride him, hips rising and falling regularly like this was just another evening for him.

Caleb could barely keep his eyes open. Trying to look directly at Mollymauk on top of him felt like trying to stare into the noonday sun. He was incandescent, radiant, his eyes a sharp red that glowed too brightly to meet directly. His tattoos seemed to swirl on his skin as Caleb watched through teary eyes, the peacock moving along his shoulder, the many eyes scattered through the art blinking off-time from each other.

Cymbals clashed and instruments sang as Mollymauk rode him viciously, taking his pleasure in measured strides. Yet he never left Caleb feeling like he was being used— he was attentive, hands constantly running over Caleb’s body: petting his peaked nipples, pressing down on his belly, stroking his jaw. Caleb hummed happily when Molly lay their bodies flush and kissed him soundly again, barely rocking his hips just to draw it all out.

Caleb’s hands scrabbled over Molly’s back. The muscle of him was firm, every line and curve of him shifting eagerly under Caleb’s hands. When Caleb curiously pet the base of his tail Molly let out the first actual, eager moan he’d managed to wrench from the tiefling. It was loud— and the crowd laughed at that, catcalling and encouraging Caleb— and full-bodied.

Molly grinned down at him with those sharp white teeth again before Caleb squeezed his tail again and his eyes promptly shut, brows drawn up in ecstasy.

“Yes, there— “ Molly moaned, rocking that much harder down on him. The jostling pressed the toy into Caleb harder, and he had to fight the urge to surge up and press Molly into the dirt—

Actually, Caleb suddenly realised, he had no _reason_ to resist the urge. In a move bolder than he usually would have taken, he surged up, rolling the two of them until he was on top of Mollymauk, slamming him down into the dirt to rut into him like his body demanded. Molly took it easily enough, laughing joyously as he was bent and curled into himself, heavy cock and balls on display.

“Excellent!” Molly encouraged him, one heel digging into his buttocks. “That’s it, darling, take what you want. It’s a feasting night, after all!” He threw his arms around Caleb’s neck, yanking him down for another hungry kiss.

 _“F-f-fuck,”_ Caleb hissed against Molly’s mouth, all but mounting Mollymauk now, hips jackrabbitting into him in short, sharp thrusts. Molly’s tail flailed between his legs, and Caleb gripped it hard, pulling it to the side so that he could get a better angle.

That, after all of it, was what seemed to do Molly in. The tiefling shuddered, jerking under Caleb’s hand as his cock twitched in one huge jump between his thighs. The pair of them wobbled unsteadily as Caleb kept his grip on Molly’s tail in one hand and slicked over the length of his cock with the other, but Molly took it all in stride, holding his legs open like he was made for it. He even whined as Caleb thrust in one final time, hips slamming hard enough to bruise as Caleb let himself come undone, moaning like a cat in heat, every pulse of his cunt accompanied by a loud, staccato “Ah— oh— M-molly—”

Luckily though, Molly was just as affected, the throes of it shining through his eyes like white-hot power. His cock twitched as his balls throbbed, sending rope after rope of his seed splattering over his own belly. Come ran down Caleb’s knuckles, drops splattering as he kept milking Mollymauk for all he had.

At last, with one final jerking shudder, Caleb withdrew, dazedly collapsing in the dirt next to Mollymauk. His head spun. His chest felt lighter somehow, like his lungs were bigger than they’d ever been, his heart pumping stronger than it used to. He stared at Mollymauk, who now wiped stray droplets of sweat off his face and flung them into the dirt. As Caleb watched, the barest of sprouts popped up where each droplet landed.

In fact, the ground under them seemed covered in such seedlings, the legs of tiny plants making a little half-trampled bed under them wherever Molly touched.

Magic. Caleb knew magic. He had it in his own blood. This was nothing new. Yet the idea of it, of passion begetting life, made Caleb’s head spin anew. He leaned down to press one more astonished kiss to Mollymauk’s lips, the exhaustion of their revelry starting to wear on his muscles. It slipped out of him in a wet slide, the heat of it cooling against his slick inner thigh. He lay down, pressing himself up along the hot line of Molly’s body, and was distantly aware of the fire crackling softly and the sounds of the rest of the revellers quieting down as he fell into the most restful sleep of his life.

He awoke in the morning covered in a fine fur pelt— something spotted and soft he’d never seen before— with his clothes folded up under his head for a pillow. He groggily sat up. His memory of the previous night was foggy. The field was cool now, the only evidence of the night before a scattering of ashes in the center of the clearing, the fallen logs they’d danced on and around looking completely ordinary in fog-dulled morning sunlight.

His head was clear though, and for that he was thankful if surprised considering the extent to which he had indulged the night before. He dressed and gathered his pack, checking to make sure he still had his materials— and found two things he did not expect, and which made him flush burgundy immediately.

In the main center of his bag was a bottle of wine, clearly marked and of the variety Caleb had been searching for for his research. Upon careful uncorking, it smelled distinctly of pomegranates and sweet cherries. His mouth watered as the notion of it, a phantom dryness evolving on his tongue.

That was the first gift.

In a further pocket, more discreet and harder to jostle, was a well-polished, burnished piece of blunt, curved wood. When Caleb drew one finger gently along the length of it it sent a spark down his spine— and a voice in his ear.

“Careful, darling. You might want to save that for another time,” Mollymauk’s lilt teased in the back of his mind, clear as if he was standing at Caleb’s shoulder.

He shook himself briskly, gathered up his things. Just now he could see the main road over the hills and maze of the trellises, and if he hurried he could get back to town by midday. He had some interesting notes to put down in his research books. There was much to attend to.

Perhaps, he thought distantly, a bit of worship had its place in the flow of magic after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all liked this! Comments always mean the world to me and inspire me to write more. <3 
> 
> If you liked what I wrote here, consider checking me out on Twitter. I'm @GoInterrobang there and I post WIPs and links to other projects there all the time!


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